The Last Patrol
by 75knicksallday
Summary: A Redwall spin on "The Last Patrol," the 8th episode of Band of Brothers. The story i told from David Webster's POV and details his actions,  and previously unseen content, with a Redwall twist. Pleasse Read.
1. Chapter 1

**Back after a long hiatus. School life etc. etc. whatever. In any case I figured I would write the plot of the Band of Brothers episode, "The Last Patrol," because why not. Nothing but respect to the men of Easy Company. Why can't they be weasels and squirrels and whatever. Please review and especially enjoy. I'll update much more regularly.**

**0850 **

**February 9, 1945**

**Town of Hagenau: Alsace, France **

**Pvt. David Kenyon Webster…. **

"Thanks for the lift!"

I shouted to the mole driving the jeep as he briefly acknowledged my wave and then proceeded to speed down the road back from whence we had came. Turning, I saw all of the trucks and jeeps and artillery pieces that were slowly trudging their way into the town, Hagenau sounded very German and it had every right to be considering that France and our good friends the Germans swapped the whole area of Lorraine and Alsace after every war. I had a lot of time to read while in the hospital, especially about the war that seemed so far away when I was getting my bandages changed and my sheets cleaned and drinking cocoa.

Not that it wasn't a bad life but I knew I needed to get back to the front, the action and most of all my friends in Company E. It felt good to just walk around and be out. After the hospital came rehabilitation and then I had to sit and complain in the replacement depot with a bunch of gung ho, piss and vinegar kids who wanted nothing more than to shoot at something. I didn't blame them really… the depot was a dreary place of thousands of tents and zero things to do except mope and gripe and hope that you got assigned to a unit before the war ended. At least I knew that was one thing I didn't have to worry about. Kids fresh out of high school 18 and 19 all asked me what combat was like, did it hurt getting shot, what was jumping out of a perfectly good plane like and I responded to the best of my ability. I didn't need to be eloquent.

Terrifying, It hurt, and the most exhilarating thing I've ever done. They didn't teach me that at Harvard.

But I wasn't in Mossflower. I was back! The ground was muddy, filled with slush and sleet but it was a crisp February morning and I didn't mind the weight of my pack and kit bag as I made my way over to the trucks and my friends.

"George Luuzzz!" I called out in a sing song voice, hoping he would launch into one of his many impressions and shoot the shit.

"Webster geeze." Luz turned and gave me a dull eyed stare. The vole's fur was matted and unkempt and he had a cigarette clutched in a perilous angle between his teeth.

"Aww c'mon I haven't been gone that long!" I extended my arms and gave him a quizzical look. I couldn't help it, there were some funny creatures that came in went in the hospital and the depot, but they were no George Luz. It was good to hear him again, even if he looked like shit.

"Geeze, Yes you have," he responded, deadpan and exhausted. I shrugged and waved my paw at him before moving up the row of trucks. George sure looked beat, but it was probably just the long ride into France, and the fact he smelled and probably hadn't changed in weeks. I knew what it was like.

I eyed the row of trucks and vehicles hoping to catch a glimpse of some more Easy company beasts. Sure enough, three trucks away, I saw some from 1st platoon.

"Lookee here what I found!" I aid striding boldly up to the back of the truck. "Hey guys, Hey Sergeant Martin!" I unsung my kit bag from my shoulder and made an attempt to lay it on the back of the truck, before I could try and scramble on board, I heard new voice.

"Whadya want Private." I glanced up and saw the face of a haggard looking otter staring back at me. He was tall and thin and I could tell he was a lieutenant thanks to his helmet, which had lost a lot of color. I eased back off the truck's tailgate and slowly slung my bag back on.

"I'm sorry sir. My name's David Webster. I just got back from the hospital."

"Well good for you," the lieutenant said sarcastically said before turning away. I slowed up and created some distance from the truck. I didn't want to try and get on this new officer's bad side. I tried to make some small talk.

"Where's uhhh Where's the rest of the fellas?"

"This is everybeast." Sergeant Martin replied without giving me a look. Next to him sat Bull Randleman and his massive badger pawns clutched a tiny lighter that was under a cigar he was chomping. I couldn't help but smile at that. Some things never change.

"'Cmon Sergeant Martin, this can't be every beast… Where's Hoobler? Whats he doing?" At this everyone stared at me. Bull stopped trying to light his cigar and stared down at me while Roy Cobb twitched his whiskers. My smile disappeared and my insides sunk. Hoobler must have gotten it. Suddenly I heard the lieutenant's voice again.

"You should report to 2nd platoon Webster, they lost more beasts than we did." He eyed me coolly from his perch on the truck.

'Yeah you heard Lieutenant Foley, head down to 2nd," I quickly turned and saw Cobb glancing down at me, his bushy tail twitching. "They lost more beasts than we did."

"Yeah Webster head two trucks up," this time it was Sergeant Martin, "You'll see em." I looked at every beast in the truck and noticed they all looked at me waiting to leave. I adjusted the strap of my pack and stepped bck out to the side of the motor convoy to try and find second platoon, my mind racing and my spirits lower than when I had first arrived only a few minutes ago. I saw my friends, Joe Liebgott, Babe Heffron and Sergeant Malarkey standing towards the front of the truck, and I set off with a renewed vigor, determined to regain some of my good graces and in turn cheer up my friends.

"Hey guys," I said slowly and carefully, not trying to repeat the process of the previous truck. "Some lieutenant told me to go to second." The occupants of the truck all turned and stared at me, aside from Sergeant Malarkey who continued to stare off over the side and into the distance. No one said a word. I glanced around hoping to hear some kind of greeting but no such luck. Still smiling I found myself staring at the face of a young weasel, who stared back at me, a curl about his lips and his hands clenched around his M1. I spoke again. "You're Jackson right." He was quick to respond and gave a slight nod in doing so.

"That's right." he said, the same look across his face. I kept my smile and remained staring at him.

"Whose leadin the platoon?" Again Jackson was quick to respond and he nodded towards Malarkey.

"Sergeant Malarkey is." Malarkey didn't say or do anything, continuing to just stand and stare out.

"Whattt no officers!" I replied in en disbelief. Surley someone was still leading, maybe Buck Compton or even some replacement lieutenant like Foley.

"I guess you hadn't heard," this time it was Liebgott, his face staring straight ahead. His rat's ears wobbled as he said this and he seemed to shake himself out of a stupor as he spoke.

"No what's that?" I asked, sensing a breakthrough with these guys. Surely they were warming up to me.

"They're making Malarkey a lieutenant, battlefield commission. He's on the fast track now." Liebgott said nodding towards me. I saw the opportunity and smiled broadly to try and assimilate with them further.

"That's great, hey Jackson, help me up will ya." In one motion I dropped my kitbag onto the truck and stepped on the tailgate, reaching up towards Jackson's paw. Slowly, he responded and hoisted me onto the back and shifted to make room. I grasped my rifle in one paw and the side of the truck with the other, losing my balance. It had been a long time since I had ridded one of these. I was still adjusting myself when to my surprise Jackson started talking to me..

"So uh you just come from the hospital," he said casually.

"Up that's right," I nodded back. It seemed like a fair enough question. Perhaps he was just trying to make some small talk as I had done.

"You must have liked that hospital Web, cause we left Holland four months ago." Liebgott said sniffing his nose in my direction. Next to him Babe Heffron scratched his quills and stared at me levelly.

"I wasn't there the whole time," I said, still grinning like a fiend and trying to keep relaxed and cool. "There was rehabilitation afterwards, and then the Replacement Depot. Before I got the chance to explain further Liebgott cut me off

"You could have tried to bust out early and help us out in Bastogne Web." He said, his eyes boring deep into mine, I avoided his gaze and tried my best to steer the conversation away to anything else, but I couldn't think of anything good. Malarkey turned back for a brief second and stared at me, before resuming his task of watching the horizon. I stammered and tried to explain.

"I don't know how I could have done that.." I began. Before I could try and justify myself further, Liebgott again cut me off.

"That's funny" he said again sniffing the cold air and boring into me. "Cause Popeye found a way, and Alley back in Holland." At this he turned to Babe, who nodded quickly in agreement before turning back to me to continue his list.

"And Guarneere,….

"Yeah where is Guarnerre," I said. It was my turn to interrupt. I hadn't expected an interrogation upon my return and wanted to just quickly meld back into the company without any hassle. It didn't look like it was going to well. "He's still your platoon sergeant right?" As I said this, the truck pulled to a stop and the driver motioned for us to dismount. As I reached for my kit bag on the floor, Jackson's voiced hit my ear.

"Naw… he got hit." he said before brushing past me and climbing out the back of the truck. I quickly sat back up and questioned him, my head following his movements.

"Yeah,… really?" I wasn't so sure of myself now.

"Yeah, yeah Bill got hit," said Babe, speaking for the first time, he too was exiting the truck. Just before he hopped off the tailgate, he turned and spoke to me.

"It blew his whole leg off."

"Really," I asked, weakly, no longer smiling and trying to keep up my good natured image. The news hit me hard. First Hoobler, then Guarnerre. Both had been with the company since the beginning. I wondered how many others had gotten it and I simply sat in silence, even after the others had left the truck and headed off down the road. It wasn't until the truck driver honked the horn that I came to and quickly scrambled out of the truck and headed off after the rest.

Suddenly, it didn't feel so great to be back.


	2. Chapter 2

I stumbled along the road, not really aware of anything going on. I simply followed the throng of white spades, figuring that we must be close to our new quarters if they let us off the trucks so close to town.

"Hold along around here till I figure out where were goin'" said Sergeant Malarkey, who eyed his fold out map with one eye and with the other looked at the remnants of 2nd platoon as they fanned out along the road into town.. The motley crew of beasts scratched their tails and quills, sniveled their whiskers and tried to stay warm by stomping their footpaws and jumping up and down. I actually walked past Malarkey, both as an effort to see what was going on, and to walk off some of the frustration I couldn't help but feel. My friends had all turned me down and left me feeling like Bastogne was all my fault. I wasn't some legendary hero or anything. Just a Harvard Literature Major. In any case, I was still wallowing in my self pity when I heard a roar overhead.

"WHUEEMP" WHUEMMP!"

"88 shells" I thought to myself. Oh geeze!" Instinctively I flung myself down on the ground . Seconds later, I heard the artillery slam into the ground a few hundred meters away, well out of range. Lifting my head I saw two MP's in front of me in a half crouch, before continuing to review the chart posted up on the nearby wall. I was pushing myself up when I heard a laugh from behind me.

"Whatsa matter Webster, nervous in the service?"

Turning I saw Malarkey chuckling and eyeing me as he clutched a map of the town in his paws. It was nice to see somebody laugh, even if it was at my expense, rather then give me a cold shoulder. Sergeant Malarkey especially looked like he needed some cheering up.

_I wonder who else we lost…._

"Ah no haha no Sarge," I said as I picked myself up from the ground, and dusted off the snow and dirt from my jacket. In the distance I could still here the 88's firing. I flinched a little bit.

"Well," said Malarkey scratching his snout and twirling his fox tail "You should go talk to Captain Speirs. I'm sure that he's gonna want you with us. We need every beast we can get." I nodded and turned to go before his words hit home.

"Wait Captain Speirs…?" I began incredulously _Wasn't he in D Company?_ "What happened to Captain Winters?" Immediately I thought the worst and wished I hadn't said anything. _If Winters was dead then…_

"He's running all of 2nd Battalion now," Malarkey said, eyes still on the map as he turned back towards the platoon. I stood and watched him walk away, my brain trying to keep up with all of the news. I turned and headed towards the large looking Tavern down the street that had been turned into the Command Post. I passed beasts whom I had never seen, all dirty and tired. I couldn't help but wonder what else went on when I was gone. Immersed in the sights and sounds, I almost passed the CP. I leaped up the set of stairs and entered through the open doorway. The place was surprisingly well lit and although a little scratched and beat up, felt homey and welcoming. There was several chairs scattered around the ground floor and the set of stairs curved upwards towards the large balcony overlooking the bar, ( or what remained of it.)

"Heyyyyy look who it is!"

Surprised, I saw it was none other than George Luz towards the end of the bar. Although his clothes and fur were still dirty, he had a bounce in his step and a healthy glimmer in his eyes. He was starting to look like his old self.

"Heya George!" I said removing my helmet and stepping from the doorway and further into the room. Propped up on beat-up looking couch was First Sergeant Lipton, who was coughing into his paw with one hand and clutching some sheets in another.

"Is he..alright?" I sai' d worriedly.

"Lip has pneumonia." George said bluntly as he handed the sergeant a large cup of coffee and propping up his pillows.

"I'm sorry to hear that," I began but George silenced me.

"Don't be sorry Web, he's got some hot food, blankets, a comfy couch, ole Lip is as snug as a bug in a rug." He said, before disappearing off down the corridor. I watched him leave and turned to face Lipton, who was drinking deeply from his mug.

"Is Captain Speirs goings to be hear soon sir?" I was told to report to him. Lipton motioned for me to sit down on one of the large chairs in the corner of the room.

"Have a seat Webster, we'll get you situated. Just as I sat down, I heard the sound of iump boots clomping on the stairs outside and suddenly, 2 beasts came marching into the room. Both had shiny new gear and clean clothes, one with lieutenant bars on his collar.

_Replacements_….

The shorter of the two was a young ferret, roughly 6 '1 and thin and lanky. He had an involuntary smile on his face and eyed the room, soaking up every detail with his large grey eyes.

The lieutenant was slightly taller and casually glanced around the room, scratching his long hare's ears and sniffing apprehensively. Perhaps his most distinguishing mark was the ruby ring that was on his left hand. He was a West Pointer and the way the ring sparkled and gleamed, eager to show everyone. Lipton suddenly broke the silence.

"Hello Private, .Sir. what's the situation." At that both of them snapped to attention and quickly saluted. Lipton lazily returned them.

"As you were Sergeant," spoke rabbit, "I'm Lieutenant Jones assigned to Easy Company, I'm looking for Captain Speirs."

"Private First Class Norman Nietzke, sir. Erm, what the lieutenant said, sir.

"Have a seat. Captain Speirs should be around here somewhere." said Lipton gesturing with both arms around the room. "Would you like some coffee sir, Nipski?"

"No, thank you," said Jones easing into a chair.

"Erm its Nietzke, sir," said the ferret still smiling, " And no thank you sir."

"I appreciate the correction Nietzke, and enough with the sir just call me sergeant or sarge. " said Lipton earnestly.

"Yes sarge," said Norm. He sat down next to Jones an eased back into the chair. Suddenly, he seemed to notice me for the first time. He smiled and extended a paw.

"Hey, I'm Norm. ." I smiled, happy to see that not everybody was angry with me.

"I'm Dave Webster,.. Just call me Web." We shook firmly and sat back both smiling. Jones eyed the exchange quizzically before speaking.

"So uh.. What platoon are you in?" he asked.

"Oh well we're about to find that out." Before any more snappy remarks were exchanged, Captain Speirs himself walked into the room. Even if he looked disheveled, the stoat had an aura about him that just radiated a certain coolness and mystery. However right now he sounded more like a nurse or a mother than the company commander. Completely ignoring the three of us, he instead turned his attention to Sergeant Lipton, who had begun to cough again.

"Lissen for Chrissake will you go sack up in the back," he said as he chastised Lipton, "I'm sick of telling you. Go get a bed and get some real sleep. You're not helping yourself out here."

"Yes sir, I will I will." said Lipton just yessing Speirs to death. He motioned towards us. "Oh Captain, this is Lieutenant Jones, Private Nietzke and

"Private Webster sir," I said interjecting quickly, seeing I had the opportunity to finally get my story straight. "I just got back from the hospital." I was unsure of where to go. I was in 1st platoon but Lieutenant Foley told me 2nd needed some….

"Fine fine fine," said Captain Speirs, waving me off. Clearly he had things to do. You go to second. You take Nietzke and…Jones with you. ." Speirs turned to leave. However, he hadn't gone more than 2 steps when Captain Winters and Captain Nixon entered the room. Everyone quickly saluted as Winters hurriedly entered. I felt myself breathe a great sigh of relief, knowing that he was still around. Unlike everyone else, he was clean-shaven, decked in fresh gear, and exerted a sense of security and energy with which even his busy squirrely tail seemed to show. Captain Nixon, hadn't changed a bit either as he lazily sauntered in with his rudder drooped to the ground and the small bulge in his pocket that could only be Vat 69 whiskey. Both of them quickly began to talk to Captain Speirs.

"Regiment wants a patrol tonight for prisoners at 0100. I just got the orders from Sink. Its 15 men so think real hard about who you wanna take. We gotta be careful crossing the river.

"Don't take any unnecessary risks or chances," added Nixon solemly. We're too far gone for that."

"Okay," nodded Speirs. "I'll brief the men at 1800."

" Captain," said Jones suddenly. Me and Norm both looked at him, then at each other curious as to what he was going to do.

"Captain Winters sir, request permission to go on the patrol sir." Jones stood unblinking waiting for an answer. Winters eyed him up and down, taking him in.

"Speirs, I'll talk to you later. He turned back to Jones. "Lieutenant," he nodded politely. Then he turned around and disappeared down the hallway. Jones watched him go deflated.

"Who are you?" Jones looked surprised. Captain Nixon had appeared right in front of him, looking at him curiously. Jones quickly recovered and responded.

"I'm Lieutenant Hank Jones sir." There was a flash of recognition across Nixon's face.

"Riggghhht Our West Pointer. When did you graduate?"

"June 6th Sir." Nixon's jaw dropped.

"June the 6th? Of last year?" he asked, his voice rising in disbelief. Jones sighed and closed his eyes, clearly finding the question and old nuisance that seemed to follow him around.

"D-Day yes sir." Captain Nixon let out a small chuckle at his response .

"Ahaha, alright. Well, don't get hurt." Suddenly he too was gone, disappearing out the front door. I shook my head and leaned on my rifle.

_Some things never seemed to change. _

Lieutenant Jones wasn't finished yet though, he turned to the last officer in the room.

"Captain Speirs, request permission to go on the patrol sir?" 3rd times the charm!

"No" said Captain Speirs brusquely, liting his face from the papers that he and Lipton were reviewing. "You don't have any experience." Jones frowned and quickly breathed out, frustrated.

"Lieutenant," said Speirs, noticing the dejected look on Jones' face. "Tell McClung, Hefforon and Ramierez that they will be part of the patrol. And get our objectives from Sergeant Malarkey. Op-2. Webster!" said Speirs, suddenly barking. I quickly turned to the Captain.

"Yes sir?"

"Take the Lieutenant and the new beast with you."

"Yes sir." I saluted sharply, Jones and Norm following suite. Speirs crisply returned the salute before going back to reviewing the papers with Lipton.

"Follow me fellas," I said marching out of the Command Post, and back outside. Quite the crew we made. The West Pointer, the new kid and the returning Harvard student.

_What a war_…


End file.
